


Synodic

by micehell



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-04
Updated: 2005-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:14:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They waxed and waned in the interval between conjunctions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Synodic

Rodney studied the sky intently, noting the ghosting new moon that trailed behind the setting sun, noting the faint glitter of stars near enough to shine even before full dark had set in. It meant nothing, told him nothing, but anything was better than looking at John, seeing the bruised face, the bruised expression.

He felt helpless. He'd been unable to help when it happened, and he couldn't fix things now.

As the sun sank further into the darkening sky, taking its pale shadow with it into the arbitrary west, Rodney sat as close to John as he’d allow, hoping that this time his presence would be help enough.

::::::::::

Rodney had spent most of the day staring at an Ancient artifact, trying to cow it into doing something, but like far too much of the universe, it refused to change just because he wanted it to.

He was tired. Tired of trying to make things work, tired of trying to understand things that couldn't be understood. Tired of being in his lab, pretending everything was all right.

Thinking he might be hungry, he went to the mess, and almost left again when he saw John sitting there, holding court in the center of the room. He gave Rodney a quick glance, but turned back to the group of marines around him, grinning as he said, "Then she said, 'That's Colonel Sweetheart to you, flyboy. Now drop and give me twenty.'"

There was laughter all around as Rodney got his food, taking it to a table as far away as he could get, but not far enough away to miss Bates' skeptical voice asking, "You hit on a colonel and all you got was twenty pushups?"

Unable to help himself, Rodney looked, as drawn to the jester as everyone else. John just gave a self-deprecating grin, shaking his head. "No, turns out it was my roommate's mother, and she made sure the whole building heard about it."

Even Bates was grinning now, all of them looking happy, normal. Only someone who knew John, who knew what had happened, would notice the distance of his chair from the others, the wariness of his eyes.

Rodney dropped his fork, the food sitting like lead in his stomach. Leaving his plate on the table, he went to the balcony outside the mess, gulping in the cool air, letting it calm the nausea that threatened to take what little he'd eaten.

The view in front of him slowly replaced the darkness playing behind his eyes. It was late, the sun dying, bleeding crimson and violet, the faintest silver crescent of a moon following like a lover's pact.

John's voice, the lazy drawl, a faint chuff of laughter, came softly to him, almost drawing him back in. But the memory of that voice, quiet and desperate, saying, "I need this, Rodney. Just give me some time. Some space. I'll… it'll be okay," was too close, and he was too tired. He sank down, hugging his knees close as he watched the dark coil up through the ocean.

Over the rumble of chairs sliding back he heard John's laugh again, fuller this time. Then a fainter cry of "No way!" floated out along the last rays of sunlight, more laughter, all of it dying away as the mess emptied, the sun set, nothing but time and space between them.

::::::::::

Rodney showed up five minutes late to the appointment in Heightmeyer's office, his tacit objection to the whole thing. Kate and John were already there, waiting patiently for him, which just added to Rodney's irritation. He sat down with a long-suffering sigh, sliding down in his seat until his ass was almost off of it, his arms crossed, hoping to make Kate as irritated as he was. She just gave him a serene smile, jotting down a note - probably something about passive-aggressive tendencies - before turning back to them.

"How do you feel today, John?"

Bringing out his big guns early in the game, John gave her the lopsided grin, complete with the tilt of the head. "Fine." At a raised eyebrow he looked down, smile fading at the corners. "Mostly."

She turned to Rodney, but he spoke before she could turn the eyebrow on him. "I'm fine, too. Just peachy. Now can we move things along here, because I have a lot of work that needs my attention, not to mention several coworkers who have been known to rewrite the laws of physics if left alone too long?"

She smiled, gracefully crossing her legs, settling in. "Just a little while longer, Rodney."

Rodney sighed and settled back, a temporary surrender. He answered questions when asked, and felt like Richard Kinsella every time Kate firmly led him back to what her question had actually been.

John grinned and deflected and charmed and deflected and smirked and deflected, saying he was fine in myriad ways. He twisted and turned, making very little look like a lot more. A moon at first quarter, looking like half, an illusion of perspective.

For an hour Rodney digressed and John deflected, and at its end, Kate made them an appointment for next week, the eyebrow quirked at both of them.

Rodney glared at her, wanting to object to the complete waste of his time, but the brush of John's hand against his distracted him, the glare softening as their fingers briefly tangled.

He held the warmth for a moment, letting it drive the loneliness back. He missed this. He missed conversations that didn't devolve into awkward silences, late night visits, heat and laughter, the press of bodies trying to merge closer than close. He missed John.

But if he was lonely, he could only imagine it was worse for John. So he didn’t complain, letting the soft brush of fingers speak for him, almost looking forward to next week.

::::::::::

Needing something he couldn't ask John for, -

- _"Not yet. What are you, five? The village is still several miles away, just like it was when you asked two minutes ago."_

John was looking back, exasperation clear on his face, and Rodney bit back the smirk that wanted to break free. They'd only been on this planet for twenty minutes and he'd already managed to make John's amused veneer slip. He was definitely ahead in points this time. Of course that just meant John would get his revenge later tonight, but he could live with that.

Rodney -

\- took himself in hand, a moment of peace at his fingertips. Firm strokes, warming quiescent flesh, the steady rain of hot water like fingers of sensation against his skin. Memory sat hidden in the corner of the shower, the faintest glimpse of it flirting with the corner of his eye, but Rodney overwrote it with the trail of heat winding through his body.

He traced chaotic trails of water over his flesh, down his cock, already beginning to harden, waxing gibbous with almost forgotten -

\- _"Pleasure to meet you guys." But there was no pleasure in John's voice; just wariness and a hint of irritation that these guys wouldn't take the hint and let them leave._

Teyla had said the Vigam people were… odd, and not the most cordial of hosts, but that the Athosians had traded with them before without problem. But she was off viewing some crops with most of the village, which left John and Rodney to deal with these three by themselves. An endeavor that had so far not met with spectacular success.

There was only silence from the men, a look at John, a look between them, then a subtle movement around them, a step closer that made Rodney instinctively move back.

John had an obviously fake smile plastered on his face as he leaned closer to Rodney, whispering, "I think the party's over, but Larry, Curly, and Moe here are definitely not buying a clue. I want you to start backing towards the road, but do it slowly, and don't turn your back to them.”

Rodney nodded, taking another step, really not liking the way the men were staring.

John took Rodney's arm as they slowly moved away, all the while keeping the men in sight. "It's been great talking to you guys, but Dr. McKay and I are going to go and see those crops now."

Still no reply. But the gap between them closed suddenly in an explosion of movement that took them both by surprise.

John shoved Rodney behind him, bringing his P-90 around, but the men were -

\- faster, harder, Rodney pumped himself, quick strokes burning his cock wonderfully even through the soft film of water, and he -

\- _moaned, shouted, pulling against the ropes as another blow struck John in the face. But the rope didn't give any more than it had before, and he could only lie there helpless as John finally went down, stayed there, the three men moving in on their prey._

Rodney shook -

\- his head clearing the thoughts away, denying them, as his arm moved through the memory, his breath coming in -

\- _pants, tiny little sounds of pain that hurt Rodney almost as much as the rope rubbing his skin raw. John's back arched as he tried to pull away, but he was held still as the_ -

\- cock was softening, but Rodney kept on, trying to get back what he'd lost, the shower growing too hot against his cold, cold -

\- _skin tearing as he pulled harder at the ropes, voice breaking as he begged them to stop._

John no longer struggled; his only movement caused by the man thrusting into him while the others -

\- held his cock, soft with pain and despair, as he sagged against the shower wall, the taste of salt and metal on his lips.

:::::::::

It was too early in the morning, at least as far as Rodney was concerned, but there were things he wanted to do before he started working. He met no one on his way to the gym; the truly fanatic morning people and the insomniacs were already mainlining coffee in the mess.

One look through the gym door and he realized that though he was up early, he was here late. Exhaustion was clear on John's face, in the sagging lines of his body, and he was already at the point of his workout where only will was keeping him moving even as he lost ground to the punching bag.

Rodney watched from the doorway, unobserved. Either he was getting better at stealth or John was too tired to notice him. Sweat flying, breathing harsh and loud, John looked too tired to care.

He threw a wild punch that missed, his body falling behind it until he grabbed the bag in a tight grip, shaking arms holding him up over shaking knees. He leaned his head into the bag, arms around it; a teddy bear, a lover, a comfort.

Loss, desire, and anger washed through Rodney. He held tight to the anger, letting it keep him in place, curbing the instinct to pull John from the bag and into him.

The anger was so bright and formless it was hard to tell where it came from. It was all mixed inside him; at the Vigams, at John, at himself. Especially himself, for not being over this when nothing had happened to him.

When the desire to hold John started to overcome the anger, he left, making his way to his lab. John could have his fists and sweat; Rodney found his comfort in the order of physics, and in the routine of abusing his coworkers.

"Radek, how many times have I told you to use a 12 point font for reports? Your writing is convoluted enough without my having to strain my eyes reading it." Rodney had run out of legitimate complaints, and was now winging it with whatever came to mind.

Radek just nodded, as he had for most of the day, the two of them working long past when the others had left. He rubbed his chin in thought, and, okay, maybe his middle finger was somewhat extended, but his eyes were still kind. "Time to go home, Rodney. You need some rest. I need some rest."

He patted Rodney on the back as he went, a mumbled, "And some garlic and a stake if I'm going to continue to work with you," trailing behind him. He turned out the lights as left, a not so subtle hint to Rodney that the working day was done.

Rodney stood there a moment, letting the quiet wash through him. The lab was still bright even with the lights off, tinted red from the full moon rising on the horizon. Blood moon, Rodney thought, unease running along his skin, but he shrugged it off, having more important things on his mind, like dinner and sleep.

Later, lying in his bed alone, he set the alarm a half-hour earlier. He'd fight his own demons with the familiar spells of John and science.

::::::::::

It was late. Rodney should have been in bed hours before, but the city was beautiful at this hour, the hallways haunted only by the potential of humanity.

He found John on one of the balconies, hair swept away from his face by the breeze, limned in the faintest silver of a moon waning gibbous, in the thin gold strand of the approaching dawn. Rodney just looked, finding John beautiful at any hour.

The ethereal gave way to the prosaic at John's lazy drawl of "Hi." Rodney, at his sparkling best, said, "Hi," in return.

Silence settled between them, but for the first time in months it wasn't awkward, loaded, and Rodney felt himself relax, the heat of the body beside him warming him through.

Inch by inch, light grew on the horizon, and inch by inch, John drew closer, his eyes looking anywhere but at Rodney. When he finally leaned over to kiss him, he missed his lips, catching Rodney half on the cheek, the kind of kiss you would give a maiden aunt.

And it felt like the best kiss Rodney had ever had. It lit places inside that he'd smothered for so long. Fire racing along his nerves, he pulled John in close, licking his way inside.

John pulled away, breathing hard. "Rodney." It sounded like five syllables instead of two, and there was fear in it as well as need.

Rodney pulled back, looking into the too pale face, too wide eyes, but those eyes were fierce, intent, and John pulled him in again, giving it all back. Warm and soft, then deep and hard, the flavor as exotic as the first time they'd kissed.

John's pulse was still racing, but his hips stuttered against Rodney's, desire in ascendancy, and Rodney couldn’t help but touch. The tip of the ear, the long wave of back, the swell of the ass. John's breath was hot in Rodney's ear, his flesh hot under Rodney's hand.

In the dip below the swell, Rodney found his hands were sweating, shaking, and John was shaking, and the iron tinge of fear overlaid the earthy smell of sex. They drew back, breathing hard. Rodney could feel the edges of panic, see the gray of it at the corners of his eyes.

"Rodney." Too few syllables, no breath behind it, but the need was still there. He was studying Rodney like he was a puzzle, and he traced one long finger over Rodney's lips like they might be the key.

Rodney started to say something, had no idea what to say. Started again, without any more clue, but the finger on his lips stopped him.

"Not…" But John trailed off, obviously as clueless as Rodney.

It was an impasse; both of them apparently hoping the other had the magic wand up their sleeve. But the only thing that happened was that the day got brighter, painting them in a wash of red and gold.

The murmur of voices in the hall broke the moment, and John gave a small smile, almost completely real. "Rodney." It was the third time he'd said it, but nothing happened, except that John leaned in for another awkward kiss, then turned and left.

Rodney watched him go, still hard, still breathing a little too fast. He could feel the echo of the touch on his lips, and traced it with his own fingers, oddly content for the moment to watch the moon wane, its circle folding in on itself as the sun chased it from the sky.

::::::::::

The sky over the city was pale blue, endless and empty but for the quarter moon sinking further as the morning waned. Definitely no puddle jumpers there.

Not that Rodney was watching for John, or cared that he'd been out all night without contact. It was just that some of the experiments they had running depended on pressure, and he wanted to make sure there were no storms on the horizon.

"Hello, Atlantis to McKay. Are you there?"

The sound of Simpson's voice brought him back to the lab, and he blinked, a little startled. Simpson sounded irritated, which, really, not unusual, but Rodney figured she must have been calling him for a while.

Chin up, covering his embarrassment with his usual disdain, he said, "I was thinking. It's a little something I like to do before I start messing with potentially dangerous equipment. You might give it a try sometime."

She winced at the reminder of last week's near fiasco, but Simpson was made of sterner stuff. "Thinking, huh? Is that what it's called? My mistake, I thought it was just you mooning over Sheppard."

Rodney gave a quick look around, afraid someone might have overheard, but they were alone in the lab. It wasn't as if there hadn't been rumors, and a number of people obviously suspected, but Rodney liked to be as discreet as he was capable of being.

Simpson smiled at his look, but it was a softer smile than her words had been, and she just handed him the disk with her results on it and left. Rodney watched her go, deciding once again that though she was evil, she was too useful to kill.

Distracted from his distraction, he turned back to his own work, determined not to think about John. After all, it wasn't as though John were a child, out past his curfew. No, he was a full-grown man _acting_ like a child by flying off and not letting anyone know where he was going.

Rodney sighed, gave up trying to save face in front of an empty lab, shutting down his computer and any pretense of work. If he was being honest, he knew that John was almost as capable of getting himself out of trouble as he was at getting into it, and that worrying was pointless. But he felt restless, ionized, and he wondered if John felt it, too. If that was why he'd spent almost more time in the air than on the ground since the kiss.

A boom of thunder drew him back to the window, mind actually on the experiments this time, but the coming storm was a small blob of gray that flickered against the silver-white of the moon, sloughing speed as the sound of its approach finally sped past it.

Rodney keyed his radio to the open comm, heard the familiar voice. "Atlantis, this is Puddle Jumper 1, coming home." John sounded tired, but the ship made its usual graceful way thorough the clear sky, no sign of storms on the horizon.

::::::::::

John padded into the room, bare feet soundless on the hard floor, stopping at the foot of the bed. Rodney lay still, waiting to see what he would do.

Without a word, John crawled up the length of the bed, curling around Rodney, only the wall of the sheet between them, as wide or as thin as John wanted it to be. He rested one hand on Rodney’s chest, his head fitting into the groove between Rodney’s neck and shoulder.

They lay there, stiff, waiting, until John sighed, relaxing. The hand moved off of Rodney’s chest, reaching down to drag the blanket up over them, a thicker barrier against the outside than the thin, thin sheet between.

Rodney turned his head, lips brushing a bit of forehead, a bit of wild hair, his body molding back into the bed, into the man beside him, and his smile was lit by a sliver of light as the waxing crescent of the moon aged across Atlantis’s sky.

/story


End file.
